Two Colour Palette
by thirteenxwishes
Summary: Kagome meets artist Shu Nishimoto on one of her trips to the future - when she sees his paintings, she is forced to ask questions. The answers lead back to the past, to a certain Lord about to meet the girl who will change his outlook forever. -Sess/Kag-
1. Beginning

**Disclaimer**: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only playing in the sandbox.

_A/N_: Well, this is my attempt at the hundred prompts for the pairing SesshoumaruxKagome at the LJ comm iy_no_kakera - I've decided to create what sounds impossible to me, at least, and do a straight series of chapters in the exact order the prompts are given. There is a plot in there somewhere... I think! It all starts out in a confusing way, but I hope anyone who starts reading will bear with me! As these are written by prompt, I'm viewing them more as a series of oneshots than anything, so the length of the chapters will probably jump about a little. But hey! Here goes nothing...

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**& Two Colour Palette &  
**_thirteenxwishes_

_Kagome meets artist Shu Nishimoto by chance, on one of her few trips back to the future. When she sees his paintings, though, she is compelled to ask questions - questions whose answers lead all the way back to the Feudal Era, and a certain Lord who is about to meet the girl who will shape his life for five hundred years. _

Sesshoumaru/Kagome; canon divergence, written for LJ comm iy no kakera.

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**Visiting/Revisiting**

The daylight filters through the glass of his shop-front, creeping inch by inch across the wooden flooring like a reluctant predator. Even now, late in the afternoon, it continues its futile hunt, straining to reach him where he sits straight-backed behind the counter.

He watches it with a smile that probably doesn't scream 'I'm a convincing human'. Though he isn't remotely concerned about that little slip.

No-one's looking closely enough to see, so he lets his nature have its way, giving the leash a little slack. He can rarely afford to do so in public, but the gallery is empty and in the waning light, people are too concerned with getting home before the winter evening starts to bite.

He can see them through the window, heads down and feet scurrying, chasing the shadows along the pavements. They are all the same - monotonous, fleeting. Human.

But it is the group of school girls in uniform, talking animatedly across the road that makes him clench his teeth and look away. They are the same, humans like the rest, but memories of raven hair and laughing blue eyes still stab through him with exactly the same intensity as nearly five hundred years previous.

_'... It hasn't become any easier. An achievement and a credit to her after such a prolonged... absence from my life.'_

He turns without thinking towards his favourite corner of the gallery, where the paintings hang sparse but full of meaning. He was unsure about displaying this particular collection, but his 'agent' nagged and nagged and nagged to the point of extortion until he gave his consent simply to shut him up.

_'Irritating kitsune.'_

And now there they are - images of the past poured on to canvas directly from his thoughts. The largest is a sprawling oil painting of the Western Palace as he saw it on the night of his ascension, bathed in moonlight at the height of its power. And yet more smaller pictures, of inuyoukai running through clouds and forests, of two swords crossed and locked in brotherhood, of a battered old well surrounded by wispy grass...

On and on they go, large like life and long like the years.

The collection is his best-selling set - prints walked from the gallery on its opening viewing - and still more people come, searching out originals and copies and, sometimes, the tales behind the paintings.

He keeps these closer to his chest than the art itself.

Despite his early misgivings, the 'Feudal Myth Series' stays, stretching across the corner in direct view of the windows. And, conveniently, his desk. He often looks at it when he isn't working, examining the newly made relics and remembering how it felt to touch the past through the movement of a brush.

It was close. Probably the closest he's ever managed to get since the past was actually the present, and he was a Lord able to roam his lands. But still not close enough. Never close enough, because the one vital component is missing, and without it, things don't work.

Life in general doesn't work.

He hates that, with all the considerable power at his disposal, because he can't change it. He can't change time, and he definitely, definitely can't change the past. It isn't a matter of not having the strength, but rather of preserving the time he has already had with her, because he is a fool if he doesn't admit that he cherishes it.

And he doesn't suffer fools gladly.

Before he can burrow his way into bleakness, the chimes above the door jingle. He looks up.

For a single moment, he sees something other than reality, because there she is, standing in the frame of the door, the same as she was when he first met her properly, when he found the respect to put a name to his half-brother's wench.

But it isn't her, and his mind is playing tricks in its old age.

"Excuse me... Nishimoto-san?"

It may not be the woman he is waiting for, but she _is_ wearing a sailor fuku, so maybe he hasn't totally lost his mind. He schools his expression into something resembling interest, glancing up at her from behind the glasses he doesn't need.

"Can I help you?"

His voice is polite, helpful - a tone he has spent much time working on, one more befitting of a servant than a lord. On bad days, it burns in his throat like his strongest poison, and makes his claws itch for blood beneath the spell.

Not entirely human yet, then.

"Yes - I'm looking for a present, for my mother. It's her birthday, and I was wondering... if you have any suggestions?"

The girl is fidgeting, a blush painting her cheeks red. It doesn't suit her. He sighs silently and ignores it.

_'Humans. Well, most of them.'_

"The collection in the corner - they are the most popular paintings, and there are prints available on the table with prices."

She stands in front of the counter for a few seconds longer, but when he says nothing more she nods, thanks him and goes over to inspect his past. He turns back to watching life pass by his window, unconcerned.

There are more people gathered around the display outside, their faces obscured by the backs of the canvases. In the gap between the props, he sees a flash of green and white.

Clearly, the girl brought back-up. Wonderful. More schoolgirls.

The skirts disappear, moving left, and the door opens. This time he doesn't look, keeping his eyes on the red spreading across the sky from the sunset like blood from an open wound.

Her scent hits him at the same time as his newest customer calls her over.

"Kagome! Ayumi, Yuka, come and see these! Don't you think okaa-san would love this picture of the dogs? They're so beautiful! And the fur, it's so real! Nishimoto-san really is as talented as Rin-chan said!"

He almost doesn't register the words, and when they catch up with him, he simply files them away for later inspection. They don't matter now - nothing matters, except _her_.

Her friends have already gone over, cooing over the picture of his youkai form, but she stands still in the doorway, eyes wide and just as blue as he remembers. She looks at the paintings, but then swings her gaze over to him.

He can see the shock there, the questions hidden inside her thoughts.

_'Because why would I of all people, a simple _human_ artist, know what an inuyoukai looks like in its true form?'_

The urge to drop his concealment and stride out from behind the desk is overwhelming, but he digs his blunt human nails into the wood and stays where he is. Because she's still in high school, which means she hasn't met him in the past yet, and god, he hates temporal mechanics.

She's still staring, so he raises his eyes to hers, flat and disinterested.

The look seems to bring her to her senses, and she shakes her head in the smallest movement, hair following her like an inky shadow. And now, she smiles, strained, bows halfway from the waist, and walks over to her friends.

It is very hard to look away, back outside the window, but he does. Barely.

They stay for a while, murmuring quietly, and he tunes out his hearing, numb until he puts the money from her friend's purchase into the till. The bell above the door rings distantly, and she slips out of his life again as quietly as she arrived.

After she leaves, her scent lingers. He takes as many breaths as he can without panting, because it's been so, so _long_.

It feels a little like a beginning.

Beneath his human disguise, Sesshoumaru makes a decision, and that smile that isn't quite human enough curls across his lips again.

He isn't going to let her go. His rationality is screaming at him to wait, wait a while longer until her time in the past is over, and he can meet her again as Sesshoumaru, youkai Lord of the West, instead of Nishimoto Shu, human artist of some repute.

He doesn't listen. The time spent with her in the past isn't enough, will never be enough. He's found her, now - or, more accurately, she's found him. Which means he can use the opportunity to his advantage, as any good Lord should.

She's his, and he's waited long enough.

_'Game start.'_

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Written for Set 1, Prompt 1, Beginning, at LJ comm iy_no_kakera. Un-beta'd. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated!


	2. Dream

**Disclaimer**: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only playing in the sandbox.

_A/N_: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last installment! :D -hugs- Here's number two...

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**Decisions and Daytrips**

When she gets home, Kagome resorts to pacing.

Slippers on, hair still wet from the shower, she stalks across the carpet - and worries. Her schoolwork sits in a neat pile on her desk; she barely spares it a glance, because she's too busy sifting through all the possibilities, spinning around in a mad merry dance inside her head.

It's enough to make her dizzy, even when she isn't moving.

Because someone - that artist, that random, _human_(-looking) artist - knows about youkai. And with enough detail to reproduce nearly perfect images of the Feudal Era; so, so familiar to her, but totally alien to this modern city of metal and movement. Even the dogs, the painting of the inuyoukai...

_'They were so accurate... Not a hair out of place, and I should know. Nearly getting melted by an angry Western Lord definitely counts for something. Now that was an experience I never expected to help me in the modern world...'_

Kagome feels the frown beginning to crease her face and smoothes it away with a hand, flopping back on her bed and shutting her eyes.

_'Maybe he just happens to have a good education, or an interest in mythology... or maybe... maybe he's a youkai himself...'_

She doesn't linger on the reasons for too long, because the hazy implications (and risks) of youkai in the future are huge. Limitless. And really, really insane. She's never sensed any youki before, and... this is giving her a headache.

If only Eri hadn't chosen to go present shopping after school - she wouldn't even be in this mess!

"Urgh."

The urge to jump through the well, run back to Inuyasha and her friends and simply ignore the horrible, flashing red warning sign jumping around gleefully in her brain is very, very strong. And tempting. Because it would be so much easier to run away.

'_Kikyou wouldn't run away...'_ whispers that little voice of inadequacy, poking her straight in the conscience, the pride and the bruised heart, one after the other until she's scrubbing her face with her hands, an exasperated groan breaking the quiet.

"Why me?"

"... Kagome?"

A voice comes from outside her room. She sits up in one movement, pasting a smile on her face in anticipation of the door opening. It does, and Mama peers in, blue eyes curious. Kagome watches them rove over the abandoned homework, the depressions of her feet in the carpet and, finally, the lines that she knows sit on her cheekbones like bruises, indigo shadows over pale skin.

Yes, she's tired. Stress and high school and dealing with an overbearing inu-hanyou tends to have that effect on people. Plus unexpected connections to the Feudal Era, where, by all rights and laws of reality and the universe and stuff, there really shouldn't be any connections at all. Like in art galleries.

Clearly, her mother doesn't know these things, and so has no hope of fathoming what is wrong with her overwrought daughter. Not for lack of trying, though, because Kagome can nearly see the wheels turning in Mama's quick mind, trying to add up the impossible equation: taking one plus one plus one, and eventually coming to four.

She watches the expected answer rise like the sun across her face, and tries not to sigh.

Because after all the years of tears and heartache, his name may as well be tattooed in red across her forehead, complete with puppy ears and a miniature Tetsusaiga, whenever she's upset, or stressed, or even remotely negative in any way, shape or form. She almost expects the 'ding ding ding!' of a winners bell and a mountain of gold coins, falling from the ceiling in a shower of wrong assumptions.

So to prevent the inevitable, she interrupts before her mother has the chance to open her mouth.

"Mama, I'm not worrying about Inuyasha."

An eyebrow raises - only a little, but enough to move her on to the defensive. She sets her jaw, jutting out her chin in a defiant line.

"It's been a long time, and I'm used to being just friends, so..." She trails off, unsure and unable to find the words to define her relationship with the hanyou, when it has been left without definition for so long.

But really, there's no need, because the ever omniscient Higurashi mother sees, accepts and understands, without asking any questions. Well. Except one.

"Do you want to talk about it, dear?"

Watching the way Mama's face crinkles in concern, she shakes her head, sending errant drops of water scattering from her hair to cover the quilted bedspread. In the space between the question and the answer, a light-bulb clicks on in her brain, and she comes to a decision about her little 'painting problem' before she even realises it.

"No, Mama, it's fine. Just tell Souta and Jii-chan that I'm... going out tomorrow. To an art gallery. I'll be back in time for dinner, but then I have to go back through the well or Inuyasha will throw a strop."

The words come easily as the idea blooms into a solid plan, and her thin smile turns into one of genuine happiness. A simple solution, no hardship - except having to potentially deal with an irritated hanyou, demanding she return to the past on time, tomorrow morning, without fail.

... But if she pays a second visit to the gallery, she can try and find out more about this artist - Shu Nishimoto? Yes, that's his name. Her nose wrinkles again.

Decisions, decisions... but really, there isn't even one to make.

After all, there's always the rosary beads.

Mama still looks doubtful, but subsides.

"All right. Be careful."

She leaves quietly with a gentle brush of perfume in the still, warm air, and Kagome sits at her desk, shuffling her books like half-formed explanations, picking one out and weighing it absently in her hands.

"I'll find out." she murmurs to the silence, turning to watch the branches of the God Tree sway through her window. "I'll find out why he knows so much."

Decided, she stands, going to the wardrobe to pick out her outfit for tomorrow.

Just because she was distracted by paintings of the past doesn't mean she didn't notice how hot the artist was.

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The next morning - a Saturday - dawns dry and bright, and Kagome leaves the house as soon as it's early enough for the gallery to be open. Never mind that Inuyasha is supposed to be coming through the well to take her back today - she thinks that paintings depicting very detailed, very _specific_ scenes only found in Feudal Japan are a good enough reason to be late.

Not that he'll accept that excuse with any less annoyance than her need to see her family and pass high school. She isn't even sure what to tell him yet.

_'"Oh, Inuyasha, by the way, do you know there's this guy in the future who happens to know about Feudal Japan in ways that modern history doesn't even cover? Y'know, the little things like youkai, and what they look like?" Yeah, Kagome, that would go absolutely brilliantly. Maybe I should just keep quiet...' _

The pavement is warm beneath her feet, cars sweeping down the road one after the other as she walks along the few turns leading to the innocuous art gallery. It doesn't take her long to reach it - the area isn't close enough to the city centre to be manic but the streets are still bustling, Saturday shoppers looking for deals in the smaller shops and supermarkets.

The other thing that hits her is the greenery - she's surprised she didn't notice it the day before, because it's definitely very, very, green. There are trees lining the path at intervals, and as she turns the corner into an open square she sees a swathe of grass planted in the centre of the enclosed space. In the middle of the grass is what looks like a stylised sculpture of a torii gate; large, red and curling at the edges.

It's beautiful, and as she looks beyond the waving trees to the front of the gallery - sitting serene on the junction of the square and the main road - she wonders if the gate is a Shu Nishimoto piece as well.

She wouldn't be surprised in the slightest.

The grass looks so inviting in the morning sun. She makes a note to buy a drink and examine the sculpture more closely when she has a chance - for now, she has some snooping to do.

She crosses the square in easy strides, stopping outside the innocent-looking door. Kagome hesitates halfway to the handle, fingers curling into her palm and lips pursing. But eventually, determination and the Higurashi stubborn streak overpower her and she straightens her spine, opening the door and walking in. The pleasant jingle of metal chimes echo quietly in the expanse of space.

The gallery is large, white and empty. Not of art - there's no shortage of that; paintings hang from glass screens in corners and in every available open space... but definitely no sign of life. There's no-one behind the desk, and certainly no sightings of the mysterious Shu Nishimoto.

Fidgeting in her sandals, she takes the opportunity while she can and goes to have a closer look at the paintings of Feudal Japan. She wasn't able to examine them closely with her friends flanking her, and _she_ needs to know just how much _he_ knows.

And she's interested. Because the art is wonderful, all delicate swirls and bold strokes, something even she can appreciate. She walks over to a pastoral sketch, of rolling hills and trees... and a very, very familiar well.

"Oh..."

A shudder skirts down her back, and she swallows and moves on, not wanting to think about the possibility of him knowing something, anything about the well, or time-travelling, or anything remotely to do with her misadventures.

Kagome's fingers twitch as she spots the small oil of two inuyoukai, wanting to reach and brush against the surface just to check they aren't about to jump out and bite her. She squints, peering closer to take in the fine detail of the fur, the long ears, flowing mane and purple crescent moon between the eyes...

... purple crescent moon?

_'Oh my freakin' god, is that Sesshoumaru??'_

"Are you looking to buy?"

The calm voice comes from her right and she starts, turning wide eyes to face her unexpected companion. Shu Nishimoto is inches away and looking exactly the same as he did yesterday when she saw him sat behind the desk - dark, short hair, brown eyes, elegant. Artistic. Close up, he's almost overpowering, and his gaze seems endless.

But he came from nowhere, and she didn't hear anything as he moved into the room. Suspicion twitches, though when she tries to use her miko powers to search for youki, there's nothing.

One theory shot down, then. Some of the hope and worry eases its way off her chest.

He raises an eyebrow at her, and she remembers that she's supposed to say something now, as you're meant to do in a normal conversation. Although to her, this is anything but normal.

"Oh! Nishimoto-san! Er- no, I'm not. Just looking - I came here with my friends yesterday, and I thought the pictures were beautiful."

It's surprisingly truthful - she was expecting to have to lie through her teeth, but now that she's confronted with the paintings and his inquisitive gaze, it seems so much harder than it was in her room, practicing her poker face in the mirror.

He smiles, a little bemused, but his eyes are measuring, calculating, and though it should be unnerving, it isn't.

"Shu is fine. And thank you. It's always nice to have work appreciated by visitors."

She thinks she hears something odd in his voice, lingering on the vowels or the last few words, some deeper meaning beyond her understanding - but she doesn't question it, instead considering the art and how to phrase her next comment to get as much information as she can.

"Is there anything that inspires them? Stories, myths, maybe... because they seem like they're mythological." She nods at the painting of the inuyoukai, trying to sound nonchalant and relaxed. "Demons?"

He seems amused. "Youkai. Yes, very astute of you, Miss...?"

"Higurashi. Kagome Higurashi."

"The ideas come from dreams, and a little from myth and history, Higurashi-san." He pauses for a moment, considering her beneath his dark bangs. "...you seem quite interested in the paintings, so why don't we discuss these stories over a cup of tea? I was making one in my studio upstairs to bring down here, and there's definitely enough for two."

Time spent with Miroku has sharpened her perv-o-meter, and based on her earlier experiences with lecherous monks and, on occasion, village headmen, this does seem like a genuine offer. And it is an opportunity to find out more - because yes, she is curious, despite her worry over his knowledge of the past.

He tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

And eventually, she nods, and he smiles.

"I'll go and get some mugs. Pull up a chair, Higurashi-san, I shouldn't be long."

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Written for Set 1, Prompt 2, Dream, at LJ comm iy_no_kakera. Un-beta'd. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated!


	3. Evil Principles

**Disclaimer**_: _Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only playing in the sandbox.

_A/N_: I've decided the first few chapters (i.e, these three and the next) are going to be linked, and then after that I'll probably start jumping from incident to incident, and when I find some prompts that flow, I'll do a series of related chapters - hope that's all right with anyone reading. If you want me to continue as I am, or have any feelings or suggestions about how I plan to write this, feel free to drop me a line. xD And thanks again to reviewers of the last chapter! -hands out cookies-

(EDIT: Bah, scrapped this idea. xD Chapters all the way, y/y?)

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**Getting to Know You**

The tea is very nice.

And so is Shu.

They sit, him behind the counter and her in front, and he tells her some of the stories behind his inspiration - and as he said before the tea, they do turn out to be rooted in mythology.

_'And history as well, but he didn't mention that, so maybe he doesn't know that all of his 'legends' are actually based on truth...'_

He tells her of the harsher, slower lifestyle, the belief in the 'myth' of youkai and the avid fear that humans held of attack and a quick death.

_'Not just a belief, but something that's far too real even for reality to cope with. ... I wish I could tell him that.'_

When he talks about that fear, the glint in his eyes comes back - that superior, slightly arrogant glint, and one eyebrow arches high in his face, challenging. It compels her to question his points, the urge to defend the human villagers of the past from his modern scepticism welling up from somewhere deep in her chest.

"But surely, the humans had some respect for these yo... er, these theoretical youkai. Even if they just believed they were real, there had to be some admiration for them, some people who weren't scared."

She catches her slip just in time, but her point is reasonable - and she knows it, even if he doesn't.

Shu considers her above the rim of his mug for a few long seconds, and then speaks slowly.

"There are stories of those who weren't scared - who went off into the wilds and came back home with tales of meeting youkai and getting away unscathed." He screws up his nose, but it doesn't make him any less attractive.

"They were ridiculed by their peers, seen as madmen. Others yet claimed they travelled with youkai across the land... and that was a death sentence in any village."

His disdain turns to sadness faster than she can blink, and she takes a sip of her tea to occupy her hands, to stop herself from reaching out and dropping one on his shoulder. Her fingers twitch against the ceramic anyway, and she wonders why she would want to comfort this stranger, this man she's only just met.

Instead of dwelling on it, Kagome changes the subject.

"Maybe you should paint some of these humans, then." she proclaims boldly to the empty gallery, and she can hear her resolve echoing back from the hidden corners and open spaces. "You know, the ones who met the youkai."

Shu raises both eyebrows this time, gazing at her with that same measured look he'd employed earlier, before the tea and before the discussion. Her resolve dwindles away, and she drops her head, focusing very hard on her mug - the white surface, the splotches of dried paint (or is that clay?) and the tea swirling inside. The silence goes on for a little too long, and when it begins to get uncomfortable, she automatically moves to justify herself.

"Ah, sorry Nishimoto-san, I shouldn't have. Your art is beautiful as it is, and I-"

He interrupts.

"I like it."

She blinks, and he repeats, a smile curving the corners of those brown eyes.

"Your idea. I like it. In fact..." The smile reaches out to include his lips, and she can't help but grin weakly back. "... I can think of quite a few pieces I could paint, with humans and youkai." His eyes narrow, but the expression remains. "And it's Shu. Not Nishimoto-san."

The correction makes her roll her eyes, and Kagome relaxes back into her chair, relieved that she hasn't inadvertently caused offence. He keeps watching her, tipping back the rest of his tea and setting the mug down on the desk with a gentle clink.

The silence mulls again, and this time, Shu is the one to fill it.

"You have my thanks, Higurashi-san. I've been having trouble painting recently, and now that you've given me some ideas in our little discussion, I think I'll be able to start producing new material again."

That makes her inordinately happy, and she thinks he probably realises it, because his eyes follow the grin unfolding across her face as surely as she feels her cheeks stretch.

"Really?"

He nods.

"Really. My agent will probably insist that I talk to you again like this, if he finds out that you've been helping me develop some new concepts."

Shu doesn't say it like a hardship - more like an unspoken invitation, careless, offhand. But his eyes speak otherwise, telling her that his request is a serious one. Kagome considers it in the few moments of stillness between words. Now that she knows he is oblivious to the truth behind his paintings, and that he is certainly _not_ a youkai - at least from what her senses say - the offer sounds tempting.

_'But can it really be coincidence that he's painted the well? The _well_, of all things!'_

She dismisses the voice of indecision with a small smile to the artist in front of her. No matter what her common sense is whispering in her ear, Shu doesn't seem malicious, doesn't feel malicious, and, from what she's gathered in the last hour or so, certainly doesn't think in a malicious way. Some primal instinct in the pit of her stomach warns her that he isn't harmless, the same instinct that the villagers in the Feudal Era use to survive every day, but she ignores it.

Because, strangely, she trusts this man. In the space of one conversation, he's insinuated himself into her confidence, into her certainty, and she isn't about to chuck him out.

He's just a painter, recreating history in his own unique - truthful - way. And there's nothing evil about that.

_'In principle.'_

Kagome tells her brain to shut up, and opens her mouth to answer.

But she's too late.

The sound is stolen from her when the door flies open with a bang. Standing in the entrance to the little gallery is none other than Inuyasha - wearing a baseball cap, sans-Tetsusaiga, and looking very, very angry.  
Shu looks vaguely surprised, and she springs to placate the hanyou before any of the paintings are trashed. Inuyasha gets there first.

"Kagome! You said you'd be back this morning!" Gold eyes narrow on her, watching her every move as she jumps from the chair and scurries across the gallery floor. And all the way, Kagome is rapidly spinning a lie, one that she hopes sounds plausible to Shu's analytical mind.

He'll probably be able to see through her story unless she plugs all the holes, and although she hates lying, sometimes, it is a necessary evil.

"Heh... oh, Inuyasha! I _told_ you I was staying at Yuka-chan's house tonight, did you forget? You know it takes me a while to walk across the city, and I couldn't hope to be back by this morning! But then I saw this gallery - Eri brought us here to buy a present for her mother yesterday - and I thought I'd come and take a look at the paintings. Beautiful, aren't they?"

"Kagome! What-"

She cuts him off with hasty babble, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the door.

"And then I ended up talking with Nishimoto-san for a while - he has some really interesting stories, y'know? About his art?"

She shoves him through the exit, and looks over her shoulder at the artist in question, who is still sitting behind his desk and watching their progress with raised eyebrows. Internally, she cringes. He must think they're mad!

"Oh, and thank you again for the tea, Nishimoto-san. I hope the painting goes well!"

Her use of the honorific remains, and even though she's been corrected twice by him about his name already, she can't risk inciting Inuyasha's famous temper in front of him, and definitely not in a public place. The baseball cap is sitting precariously as it is, and for Shu to find out that the objects of his paintings are real, living, breathing humans with puppy ears? Probably not a good thing. At all.

The artist opens his mouth to reply, but she's closing the door already, walking quickly down the street followed by an irate hanyou. And then the arguments begin.

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Inside the gallery, Sesshoumaru sits back, head dropping into his hands and a growl rolling from his throat to fall empty in the air.

Stupid past half-brother. He'd been savouring every moment of conversation with the miko, and Inuyasha just had to come in and ruin it.

Bastard.

He stands, taking a deep breath of her scent as he scoops up the empty mugs, walking them up the stairs and into his studio. He leaves them in the small sink at the back of the room, still turning over the different colours of her smell, and picks up his palette.

Sesshoumaru has drawn her many, many times. But this time is different, and he mixes the paint almost mindlessly, senses closed to everything but the captured shades of her, buzzing inside his brain.

He doesn't stop until his phone rings in his pocket, and annoyed, he fishes it out and checks the caller ID. A sadistic smirk twists into life, one he thought he'd abandoned centuries ago.

But the thought of tormenting the older Inuyasha for this morning's 'incident' is enough to bring lost habits to the surface, evil principles back to life.  
After all, what's five hundred years between brothers?

He accepts the call, setting down the brush and looking over his work.

"Hello, Inuyasha..."

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Written for Set 1, Prompt 3, Evil Principles, at LJ comm iy_no_kakera. Un-beta'd. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated!


	4. If It Turns

**Disclaimer**: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only playing in the sandbox.

_A/N_: Thanks to everyone who gave feedback on the last chapter! :) I've rewritten this prompt a few times (which was very annoying, believe me, but I wanted it to be as clear as possible. x.x) And I worry that it's still more than a little confusing, and will probably remain so until the next chapter's posted. I promise, when you read this with the next chapter following on, everything will make sense. Any questions? Leave me a review or drop me a line, and I'll try my best to answer them for you. Oh, and wave good-bye to present!Sesshoumaru for a bit. Next time, Feudal!Sess makes an appearance. :)

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**Painting Paradox**

After his revenge is earned - courtesy of a few well-placed comments and a lot of cursing from his brother - Sesshoumaru goes back to his easel and palette. The room is silent but for the gentle sweep of brush against canvas, and he basks in the sunlight pouring from the roof window, draping his studio in shifting patterns of black and gold.

He paints all morning. Sometimes with fierce concentration and sometimes with dream-like inattention, eyes wandering across the room hand in hand with his ranging thoughts. Kagome inspired him, in the twenty or so minutes she spent facing him across the desk, and when he stops to have a coffee, he thinks that giving her this small painting would be a fitting tribute; something she would appreciate, something which would satisfy him, and something which would hopefully mean further meetings, more tea in the gallery and perhaps even a trip to dinner.

Yes.

Sesshoumaru smiles, and hurries back to the canvas.

By the time he finishes, the sun is sitting high in the sky and people outside are stopping for lunch. Setting down his tools with a smug smile and paint-coated hands, Sesshoumaru looks at the complete work fully, examining every line and curve with a critical eye.

Every _familiar_ line and curve.

He's seen this painting before.

It dawns on him slowly, and he wonders why he didn't notice earlier - too absorbed in finding the precise shade of blue for her eyes, maybe, or the wry twist to her smile. Careless.

Sesshoumaru leans closer - and finds himself transported back in time. Five hundred years ago, to the day his attention was captured by the human woman who simply refused to die, despite the timely appearance of a low-level youkai and the absence of all her usual companions. He remembers his curiosity, drawn to the surface by her odd attitude and mysterious belongings - which happened to include a painting, the style of which he'd never seen before in his considerably long life.

And now, he's painted that very same piece of art. To give to her. And she'll take it back to the past. Where his past self will see it, get interested... and things will progress quite happily from there, from what he remembers.

_'... hn.'_

The irony catches up with him like a wrecking ball on the re-swing, and he snorts.

_'My life appears to have turned into a piece of science-fiction.'_

The silence falls again. Sesshoumaru lets it all tick over in his mind, running one hand absently along the wooden edge of his favoured brush, twirling it between two fingers.

_'But... if this is the price of being involved with Kagome and her odd time travelling tendencies, then I will pay it gladly.'_

Decision made, his concealment falls away easily, claws extending from hands and hair falling about him like a regal cloak, rich and silver. Sesshoumaru dries the paint with a wave of heated youki, and turns the small canvas over. The wooden cross supporting the painting gleams dully in the dim light. His fingers trail across the grainy surface from right to left, stopping at the centrepoint and testing its strength with a gentle press.

It doesn't break, so he carves his message to the past with deft flicks, the kanji minute, precise, short - too small for human eyes to see.

_'It wouldn't do for her to read it, after all.'_

Job done, he applies a little poison to preserve the carvings (scentless, thanks to the illusion spell, and he decides that his agent does have his uses sometimes, especially with magic) and makes his way downstairs, disguise reasserting itself as he passes into the gallery.

Kagome's scent is fading, but the stink of Inuyasha, Feudal Era-style, still hangs in the doorway like an evil spectre. He never imagined that reliving the stench of the past would be so very... unpleasant.

_'If there is one thing in the future I'm truly grateful for, it is the fact that humans have finally learnt how to bathe. Properly.'_

With a grimace of distaste, Sesshoumaru follows it down the street at normal walking pace.

_'The things I do for Kagome. She will be grateful for this, or I will be most displeased.'_

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**

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**

Somehow, she manages to convince Inuyasha to let her stay in the future for lunch. It takes a lot of persuasion, much arguing and the threat of repeated 'sits', but by the time they get home from the gallery, he gives in and goes to sit in the Goshinboku while she steps inside to eat.

But the moment Mama opens the window and asks him if wants ramen, he follows, faster than she can pour the water from the kettle. Typical.

Three cups of noodles and an empty bento box later, she's said her good-byes and picked up her pack from its resting place in the hall. Inuyasha left the house as soon as he'd finished eating, but she really can't blame him - she would've done the same if exposed to a concentrated dose of Souta's persistent questioning.

Hugs and kisses bestowed, and she's ready to go, walking out into the courtyard with a smile on her face and a grumpy Inuyasha to appease.

Or, at least, she would have appeased him - with promises of more ramen and pocky, no less - if he'd chosen to greet her in an more... appropriate manner.

"What took you so long, wench?"

_'Deep breaths. He's annoyed because of Souta, and he's got reason to be angry because I was late and wanted to have lunch... but he's still getting sat later.'_

"You finished eatin' _ages_ ago, and no excuses this time. It's been three days, and there might've been a shard rumour while we've been messin' around here, or Naraku could've attacked, or-"

"Inuyasha-"

"-Miroku and Sango are waiting, and Shippo-"

"Inuyasha."

"-rumours of attacks on villages, and now-"

"Inuyasha!"

"What?"

"Osuwari!"

Thud.

"Kagome!"

"Sorry, Inuyasha, but you wouldn't let me get a word in edgeways. I came out to tell you I'm ready to leave, anyway, so stop being so tetchy!."

"... keh."

Kagome knows that's as close as she'll get to an apology, but she smiles anyway, and drops her bag to help him up. As she moves, she catches a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of her eye. The glimpse quickly revolves itself into a person. A slightly familiar person...

Oh no.

"Nishimoto-san!"

He looks back from where he was examining the shrine building, offering a small smile and a nod.

_'What's he doing here? And how does he know where I _live_?' _

The idea of 'youkai Shu' suddenly reasserts itself as an option.

"Hello again, Higurashi-san. I hope you don't mind me dropping in - I have a present for you. As thanks for your help with my... painting block."

Inuyasha finally gets up, levering himself off the ground and levelling a glare at the hapless artist, stood only feet away. She can feel the tension in his muscles through the hand that still rests on his arm.

_'Please, _please_, don't do anything stupid, Inuyasha.'_

Thankfully, he keeps silent, but the raised eyebrow from Shu in the direction of the 'sit' crater is enough to prompt a fumbled explanation - the second in the same morning.

_'Has to be a record.'_

"We're... having landscaping work on the shrine grounds. Inuyasha tends to forget where the holes are, and, well - falls. A lot." She waves a hand lamely.

_'Urgh. That was terrible. Sometimes, I really, really hate the modern world for not believing in time travel and youkai. It would make life so much easier.'_

Inuyasha sends her a look, sceptical and just a little insulted. A nudge of his arm is command enough - _'play along!'_.

"I see."

His polite response and acceptance make her sag in relief. She can feel the hanyou to her right getting more impatient by the minute, so she gets down to business. Objective number one: make Shu leave, but without offending him. Because she really did enjoy talking to him this morning, and wouldn't object to further conversations over tea in his beautiful gallery, no matter how many times her rationality kicks her in the shins and tells her that it's a bad, _bad _idea.

"Ah, it's very nice of you to visit and bring a present, Nishimoto-san-" Is that a frown? Probably the name again. Oops. "... but there's really no need to thank me at all! I didn't do anything except talk a lot and ask too many questions. ... And how did you know where I live?"

Her voice gets smaller and smaller until it fades to a squeak. He smirks.

"The phonebook is a wonderful thing, Higurashi-san."

_... _ah.

The 'youkai Shu' option quietly sinks back into the realms of impossibility, hand in hand with her dignity. Her cheeks are burning, but she huffs and brushes it off, embarrassed.

_'Duh, Kagome!'_

He's speaking again, and she half listens while wallowing in her stupidity.

"As for your point about your contribution - on the contrary, I feel I have much to thank you for." His serious expression turns into something more playful.

"And wouldn't it be rude to turn away something I've been painting all morning?"

Kagome opens her mouth to reply, but then his words catch up with her, and she notices the canvas held securely in the crook of his arm. Her jaw shuts with a click.

"You painted something? For me?"

Shu arches an eyebrow as if to say, _'Surprised?'. _Next to her, Inuyasha's impatience reaches boiling point, focus shifting from him to her.

"C'mon, Kagome, we're leaving."

His voice is short, clipped, which means he's quickly approaching the 'pissed beyond belief' stage. His eyes are burning, too, wanting an explanation. Inwardly, she sighs, but settles for a pat on the arm and a warning frown.

"Inuyasha. We'll go in a minute." _'Please._'

He doesn't answer or look away, but she feels him give in, albeit unwillingly. She ploughs ahead, turning back to the artist.

"We're going to visit some friends in a bit of a hurry, so I can't invite you inside the house or anything-"

Shu cuts her off, looking oddly sympathetic.

_'Great. He can join the herd of people who pity me for my 'possessive boyfriend'. Possessive, yes, boyfriend, no. Will they _ever_ get the message?'_

Clearly not.

"Don't worry about it, Higurashi-san. I only came to deliver this. Here."

He hands the painting over, and she barely has a chance to look at it - a flash of blue eyes, scarily similar to the ones she sees in the mirror every morning - before Inuyasha tugs on her arm, and she has to throw her good-bye over her shoulder as they jog towards the well.

"Thank you, Nishimoto-san! I promise to come and tell you what I think of it when I have more time, so I'll see you soon!"

He simply raises a hand, and eventually disappears over the rise of the hill.

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**

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**

Sesshoumaru waits on the path until their voices fade. Moments later, there is a flare of power, and she is gone, into his past and her future.

He takes a deep breath, turns and leaves the way he came, empty-handed and unsatisfied with the few minutes he got to spend with her. But her time isn't his to have yet, and it annoys him beyond belief - because even when she doesn't know him, she is pervasive, invading every aspect of his life while still being totally unaware of it.

Although, he's not exactly an unwilling victim. Not in the past, either, no matter how long it takes for him to concede defeat. With her, falling is inevitable.

Turning the corner into the small square, Sesshoumaru smirks in sympathy for his past self, about to encounter the woman who will eventually change him for the better. And all because of one simple painting, with one simple message carved into the back.

He really won't know what's hit him.

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Written for Set 1, Prompt 4, If It Turns, at LJ comm iy_no_kakera. Un-beta'd. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated! Especially concrit. :)


	5. Respect

**Disclaimer**: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only playing in the sandbox.

_A/N_: This chapter is the longest so far, by nearly 1,000 words - hopefully, it doesn't look too out of place, or drag on for an interminable amount of time. x.x Feedback on the length would be brilliant, as would any comments on Inuyasha's characterisation so far - had some comments about it, so want to see if I should go back and do a little tweaking. :) Thanks to all who reviewed last chapter - you helped me get my inspiration back for this series more than you can ever think. -hugs- Anyway - enjoy!

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**Distant Meetings**

Kagome climbs out of the well courtesy of Inuyasha, who lifts her and the bulky pack as if they weigh no more than a feather. The clearing is empty; the sky a pale eggshell blue, pristine and cloudless, and the trees lining the well-trodden path to the village rustle in welcome. She takes a deep breath of clean, Feudal air and smiles.

Home sweet home.

Beside her, Inuyasha sets her pack down in the long grass and visibly relaxes, all of his annoyance with her and Shu and life in general draining away, like water soaking into the earth after a long storm. Kagome watches it leave, relieved that she won't be subjected to an immediate interrogation. Later, when he's recovered from his fit of pique at her delayed return, they'll be able to have a reasonable discussion.

Hopefully.

Ears flick in her direction, and Inuyasha slants a look at her, unfathomable. She blinks, confused.

"What's wrong?"

Her hanyou friend takes a deep breath, letting it go slowly, measured and careful - totally at odds with his careless temper.

"... I don't like that guy, Kagome. He smells weird. Hell knows how you met, but you should stay away from him."

Kagome's brows knit into a frown, and an oddly defensive feeling rises up in her chest.

"Is that why you were so annoyed?"

Inuyasha crosses his arms.

"You were late. There're shards to hunt."

_'And that's Inuyasha-speak for "yes"'._

"He doesn't seem like trouble, if that's what you mean. I only went to the art gallery because I liked his pictures, and we got talking. That's all."

The half-truth wriggles uncomfortably in her stomach, but she still feels undecided about mentioning the Feudal paintings - especially when she hasn't properly puzzled them out herself, yet. Knowing Inuyasha, he would instantly assume that Naraku has something to do with it. No matter that the hanyou has never before interfered in the future. Hell, they didn't even know if he _knew_ about her origins.

But, if he did…

The idea alone is enough to give her nightmares.

Inuyasha scoffs, and she stops thinking, bristling a little at his disbelief.

'_Just because I'm not telling the whole truth doesn't mean I can't stand on principle! Haven't we been travelling together long enough for him to take my word for it?'_

"Hey! Trust me a little, why don't you?"

Inuyasha holds her glare for a moment, and then his ears drop. He looks suitably chastised, so she softens her expression and keeps explaining.

"He thinks I helped him out with some inspiration, so he gave me a painting..." She shifts the canvas under her arm, nudging it into her open palms for a long-overdue examination.

When she sees it, her breath catches in her throat. The glance she snatched earlier between accepting the painting and being pulled away by Inuyasha was only the tip of the iceberg. Her wonderment at seeing her own face - staring back at her from canvas in delicate brushstrokes and pastel shades - is rivalled only by her amazement at how he could possibly have managed to paint this... beautiful, beautiful thing in such a short time. A matter of hours! And after only meeting her twice...

_'But still... that can't be me! It's too... well, too. In everything. I mean, are my eyes really that shade of blue? It doesn't stop it from being gorgeous, though. Even if it is a little exaggerated.'_

Inuyasha peers at it over her shoulder, and dismisses it with a quick 'keh!'. He hefts her pack again, signalling the end of the conversation. She takes the hint and replaces the canvas beneath her arm carefully. Together, they walk along the track to Kaede's hut, and the questions she tried to leave behind in the future give her a swift kick in the backside.

_'Can I justify keeping those paintings to myself?_ _.... urgh. It's nothing to do with him, really, but... if he's suspicious...'_

She catches Inuyasha looking at her as they walk through the rice fields, eyebrows raised and sleeves billowing in the breeze.

"What you thinking about, wench?"

His tone is genuinely curious, and she thinks she can catch a hint of concern in his eyes.

'_Ah, the wonders of a hanyou nose.' _

He must be able to catch the scent of all those crazy thoughts, tumbling around in her head. Kagome exhales, long and ponderous, swinging her arms by her sides.

_'... I feel bad about not telling him, as stupid as it sounds. It has to do with the Feudal Era, so... I suppose he has an indirect right to know…'_

She starts to take a breath. Suddenly, Inuyasha freezes, ears rammed forward and eyes focused on something beyond the tree line. Whatever it is, it isn't good.

"Inuyasha...?"

He silences her with a look. And then, she hears the screams, the shouts, the inhuman roars coming from ahead, along the path.

At the village.

Her pack is mercilessly abandoned beneath the nearest tree, the painting propped carefully against it. She leaps on to his back, and they take off, blurring across the short distance left between them and the battle raging over the hill.

Gripping his shoulders, Kagome squeezes her eyes shut against the wind.

_'Please, please be all right. We're coming.'_

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He is minding his own business when he comes across the pile of items, sitting innocently against the trunk of a large tree.

The forest does nothing to hide the scent of his half-brother or his wench. Their trail hangs like careless curtains in the summer air, and he steps delicately around them, sniffing distastefully. The idea of having 'eau de fear and panic' saturating his clothes when he returns to the Western keep is most... inconvenient. It would not do for his generals and subjects to perceive the half breed's agitation as his own, or to make the assumption that he has lowered himself to the point of associating with his younger brother.

But despite this, his curiosity is caught by the oddities in his path.

He hasn't seen anything like the vulgar yellow... something, before. It isn't dissimilar to the medicine slings used by the healers in the keep, but the very fact that he, Lord Sesshoumaru, can't define its use is enough to incite his interest. He sifts through the different layers of scent surrounding the mysterious objects, peeling away the emotions, thoughts and worries of their wayward owner - clearly the dark-haired miko nuisance, if the nearly overpowering scent of witch-hazel and white clover is anything to judge by.

"Hn."

The wooden square leaning against the yellow bulk captures his eye, and he stoops to pick it up, the lines of his body ruler-straight. When he turns it over, Sesshoumaru finds himself confronted by a thing of beauty.

The artwork has the boldest and yet softest colour he has ever seen. It is something more suited to the bright creations lovingly daubed on the rich, folding screens, spread across the keep at his insistence. But here it is, a smaller piece with the vibrancy of a mural and the quiet calm of the Zen gardens, their flowing curls of silent water and contemplation. His eyes examine the structure of the canvas.

_'What method is this?' _Claws trace the fabric, angled away, teasing the edges of the wooden frame keeping the piece in shape._ 'It is none that is employed at current in the keep, nor one I have seen in the merchant gatherings.' _

For now, it is no matter of consequence that the subject is Inuyasha's miko. He is drawn in, against his will, by the swirls of paint, of blues and blacks and greens and whites that make up her silhouette, coming together to create something... new. Something beautiful.

Inwardly, Sesshoumaru allows himself to smirk at the irony. He, the Lord of the West, the perfect soldier, the Killing Perfection, is taking the time to enjoy a piece of artwork. Yes, he has an appreciation for art, and beauty. The walls of the Western keep are proof enough of that. But this is different. This is a painting depicting a _human._ Better yet, a human _female. _A human female _miko._

His father would be rolling with laughter, in the space between life and death.

He narrows his eyes minutely in disdain. Placing the art back from whence it came, Sesshoumaru moves to walk away.

_'These objects are not worth my time.'_

Unfortunately, circumstances interfere. And which particular circumstance is the most interfering, irritating and infuriating of them all?

Instinct forces him to still at the wave of familiar youki that comes sweeping from the nearby village, violent and vengeful. Out of control.

A feminine scream rents the air.

'_Ah. The impertinent miko.'_

The inhuman snarl dragged to his ear by the wind reminds him of his own stakes in this battle. His half-brother, no matter how annoying, is a member of the Western lineage. Familial bonds between pack members - however weak, tenuous or hated - are very demanding when ignored. And oh, yes, Sesshoumaru is ignoring them with every considerable ounce of power at his disposal.

Unfortunately, his building curiosity at the situation overpowers even his youki. It manages to send his feet along the path before he can draw Toukijin and soundly slaughter the wandering impulse. He fights the futile battle against his own interest for a while – because what Daiyoukai worth his blade would accept defeat? – before sighing, and conceding gracefully.

'_What have you done this time, half-breed?'_

Sesshoumaru continues towards the village. The painting sits, unmoved.

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**&&&**

* * *

When he arrives, he views the bedlam from a distance. Although his instincts compell him to investigate the swell of Inuyasha's youki, that doesn't mean he has to intervene. And he isn't. Instead, he watches.

The human settlement appears to be plagued by an intermediate youkai pack. With them, from them, around them, the stench of unwashed bandit roils, and the gang of accompanying humans raise their knives and katana against the villagers, eyes blank.

'_Feeble.'_

He recognises youkai mind control when he sees it, even with the wind blowing in the wrong direction for scenting. Their youkai masters are nearest to him, watching from the flanks and waiting for the bandits to kill the fighters so they can feast on their flesh. Some are clearly too eager to taste blood, and decide to join in the fight, not discriminating between villagers or their own enslaved men.

Clearly, his half-brother and his comrades lack the superior knowledge and judgement to tell when a human is being controlled.

'_But then, what more am I to expect from a hanyou alpha?'_

Bleeding from several deep gashes littering his arms and torso, Inuyasha charges towards the group of youkai, claws raised. Even from his viewpoint, Sesshoumaru sees the red tainting the corners of his eyes. The Tetsusaiga is somehow buried in a tree, beyond the attackers and impossible for him to reach.

Luckily for Sesshoumaru, it is only a few metres to the left. He could take it in seconds.

'_How very… irresponsible, to lose something so precious….'_

His fingers twitch, but curl uselessly into his palm. His honour shackles him.

Utterly disgusted with both his upbringing and the sight of Inuyasha being bested by such a meagre pack, he turns his attentions to the rest of the battle. The slayer is protecting the injured monk, who lies spread-eagled in the grass, bleeding sluggishly. The firecat and kitsune are with the villagers, standing as a second line of defence against the bandits. And the miko?

His eyes scan.

"Get _off _me!"

Sesshoumaru lifts his lip in disdain. The woman is as loud as ever, brandishing her bow at the youkai attempting to crush her in its grip. The quiver is lying empty on the bloodied grass, snapped in half. She screams again, until its fist squeezes tighter and she chokes, arms falling down as she gasps for breath.

An enraged snarl comes from Inuyasha, and without the calming influence of Tetsusaiga, his youki surges further. He moves to attack again. But the bandits converge on him, their weapons pushing him back.

"Kagome!"

The wail of the kit as the girl goes limp kicks his half-brother into a fury, and his claws gleam in the sunlight, red beginning to bleed towards the centre of his eyes, pupils contracting, elongating.

'_Pathetic.'_

As Inuyasha is about to cut down the humans around him, Sesshoumaru senses a rise of power from the miko wench. Her eyes fly open, and she swings the bow forcefully into the face of the youkai. It howls in pain, purification energy crackling across its skin like wildfire, and crumbles into dust. The girl barely catches herself as she falls, but it is only a matter of seconds until she looks over at the others; the monk and slayer, the human villagers, the kit – all now fighting off bandits with little to no success against the mindless killers.

And then, she catches sight of Inuyasha, half-transformed and swiping at the expanding group of youki, spurred on by the death of their comrade.

Sesshoumaru observes, impassive, as the fear gleams in her wide eyes.

'_The wench is scared of the half-breed. Predictable, for a human.'_

Bored of watching his half-brother's pack being beaten to a pulp, he turns to leave. But for the second time in one morning, something stops him in his tracks. The woman is running across the battlefield, dodging youkai and bandit alike, and heading straight towards him. For a moment, he is confused – why would she be running to him? Does she think he would _help_? Then, he notices that her eyes are locked on the Tetsusaiga, embedded in the tree.

The wind changes direction, blowing towards him and bringing the scent of the battle, the scent of her approach, and with it, clarity.

She isn't scared of the half-breed, but _for_ him. The woman wants to help his brother, he realizes, as she nearly trips on to the hilt of the sword and begins to pull at it frantically. The noise of the battle escalates behind her, and the woman speeds up, throwing all her strength into her action. Her expression perplexes him, a combination of determination and desperation that he only ever thought to see on the dead, or dying. This wench is experiencing neither of these frankly unpleasant states, and yet…

She is still fighting to uphold his honour. The honour of a worthless half-breed, a hanyou. She doesn't want him to be cast aside by the villagers, after his youkai form devastates the battlefield. Her scent tells this story, but he is no less confused.

Because if the wench is fighting for the honour of another, doesn't that make her honourable herself?

'_No. Humans are _not _honourable creatures.'_

His fingers twitch again, just as she gives a frustrated scream. It hurts his ears at such close proximity, but doesn't prevent him from hearing the sound of the blade rasping free from the wood. She stumbles backwards, into a bandit. Sesshoumaru expects her to cower in fear, but instead, he watches the fire in her eyes flare as she slams the hilt of the untransformed Tetsusaiga into his temple. Hard.

The man crumples, and she starts running back towards the mass of youkai surrounding Inuyasha. As she nears the main fight, the wench falters at seeing the bandits advancing on the slayer, the monk and the remaining villagers. The fighting woman looks over and shouts encouragement. He catches the words on the breeze.

"Keep going, Kagome! If he gets the Tetsusaiga and kills the youkai, we'll be fine!"

She nods and shoves her bow into the stomach of an advancing youkai, buying herself enough time to fight her way through the failing mob surrounding the half-breed. He is growling constantly, now, blood dripping from his claws and glowing in his eyes.

She pauses and squares her shoulders in the little space between them.

Sesshoumaru's eyebrows rise.

'_The wench is going to confront him in that form? … Hn. Her death is guaranteed.'_

Bow in one hand, Tetsusaiga in the other, she takes a breath.

"Osuwari!"

The youkai-half-breed slams into the ground with a loud snarl, and she throws the sword into his open hands. Seeing their opportunity, the depleted youkai opponents charge towards the defenceless woman. She lifts her chin, shaking minutely, bow half-raised.

Cries of her name come from the other pack-members, stranded by the fighting.

She stands by the half-breed, ready to defend him.

Sesshoumaru snorts softly.

'_Foolish.'_

But somewhere in his cold, cold heart, respect stirs.

The youkai pack roars. Inuyasha, golden-eyed and sane, strains against the spell. When he speaks, his voice is harsh and wretched.

"_Fuck!_ Kagome, _move!!'_

Inwardly, Sesshoumaru scoffs.

'_That woman will not listen to one such as you, half-breed.'_

His prediction is correct. She doesn't, eyes stubborn and stance firm. The bow begins to shimmer, trapped in a heat-haze of miko power.

But then, the magic releases Inuyasha, and he snatches her away, bringing Tetsusaiga up as he retreats back towards the rest of the pack. The wind of death blows. The remaining youkai fall easily, and the bandits follow suit when their masters depart for Hell.

The pair land, and Inuyasha immediately turns to her, hands gripping her shoulders, skimming along arms and checking for injury. But even from his vantage point, Sesshoumaru can see the panic in his eyes.

'_Useless hanyou.'_

The woman is harder to read, but when he catches a glimpse of her face, softly smiling and shaking her head, his thoughts return - almost inexorably - to that painting.

And he finds himself doing something that he doesn't do very often.

Reconsidering.

_'The artisans of the West could benefit from the new method. I will take it. It could be… profitable.'_

Decision made, Sesshoumaru leaves, and lowers himself to petty theft.

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Written for Set 1, Prompt 5, Respect, at LJ comm iy_no_kakera. Un-beta'd. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated! Especially concrit. :)


	6. Nostalgic

**Disclaimer**: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, I'm only playing in the sandbox.

_A/N_: All I can do is apologise for taking so long with this! My inspiration is fickle at the best of times, but hopefully now that I've pulled myself back into it there shouldn't be a gap of month(s) between updates. Fingers crossed.  
Anyway - this chapter is more of an interlude than anything; winding up towards the big first meeting! Also the introduction of my first original character; any and all opinions on her and her interaction with poor old Sesshoumaru will be much appreciated! Some little edits will be done on previous chapters too - need to sort out my gross comma misuse. :) Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, favourite or alert this story in the gap between updates. I owe you all hugs for being so brilliant. So, here we are. Hope you enjoy!

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**Digging Up Old Bones**

His arrival back at the keep is as boring as expected.

Soldiers salute, courtiers bow and pander at his feet, servants scurry through the wide hallways bearing trays of food for the evening banquet - and, as ever, whispers of mutiny seep their way through the paper walls, as plain to his ears as if they were engraved in stone and ink.

Really. They could at least make a decent attempt at subtlety.

Whatever they care to plan, it doesn't bother him - dissent is something he grew up with. He fed more on rebellion than he did the blood of the hunt, and everyone in the keep knows that trying to outwit Lord Sesshoumaru is probably worth as much as signing your own death warrant and handing it over to the executioner. Those who do dare to work against him are either incredibly stupid or have liquid ambition in place of blood, thirsty only for the power of the West with no regard for its Lord. Even if that Lord happens to be the strongest force in the land.

Maybe ambition and stupidity are one and the same after all.

As soon as he can, he excuses himself from the welcoming committee. Moments later he is happily shut away in the only peaceful corner he possesses in the entire keep - his study. The musty scent of the room is nearly as therapeutic as wandering his lands and he relaxes easily back into the chair, choosing to ignore the stack of papers that have colonised his desk and formed a primitive civilisation in his absence.

Damned paperwork.

"I thought I'd find you in here, Sesshoumaru-sama."

He doesn't need to open his eyes to know exactly who is speaking. The familiar scent of warm leather and danger is enough.

"Akiyo."

The female inuyoukai shifts, ever-present armour clanking quietly. The screen slides shut.

"The soldiers are glad to see you back, my Lord." Her voice is nonchalant, the respectful title tacked artlessly to her speech, an afterthought. It should annoy him, rile his instinct as alpha - but instead, he just sighs. Being associated with his senior general since he was nothing more than a bratty pup has done wonders for dulling his temper towards her blatant disregard for protocol. Demanding unconditional subservience from someone who saw him through tears and illness is a waste of his time. Unfortunately, she knows it well and is never above taking advantage. Her current smirk tells him as much.

"Though I suspect you're less than glad to be here."

"Hn. Your powers of deduction fail to astound me. This Sesshoumaru hopes that you are more stringent with the troops than you are with keeping your instinct sharp, general."

She crosses her arms.

"You know, it's awfully hard work trying to inspire a bunch of lazy inuyoukai whose leader insists on wandering about the countryside like a lost pup instead of staying to supervise their training."

Her frank attitude wanders perilously close to the line even with his added lenience. His quiet growl quickly stiffens her joints - although the wry grin proves she isn't really sorry at all.

"Apologies, my Lord."

He nods and glances down at the painting sitting quiet on his desk, one ear trained on his general as she habitually checks the weapons adorning her waist.

"Report, Akiyo."

"Ah. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to get to that, because Sayuri-san told me to tell you that..." His eyebrow climbs steadily towards his hairline, gaze becoming pointed. And why exactly did he appoint her as general again? "All right, all right, I'm getting on with it. Don't get all snarly, I was only trying to relay a message for you, Sesshoumaru-sama."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and considers giving up trying to halt the impending headache.

"Your propensity to turn conversation to an unrelated tangent may be useful for diverting spies, general, but in this study you know that it not required and is nothing more than an irritation. _Report."_

She sighs, and stands to attention.

"The troops are fine; some the new recruits are a little shaky, but after stepping through the kata with swords they are improving very quickly. No outstanding messages of importance from the other lands, no emissaries or ambassadors from the cardinal Lords. In other words, very quiet. Nothing further to report."

"This is acceptable. We should expect some degree of silence. However, if their... lack of communication continues over the coming months, it would be prudent to remind them of their obligations in trade and support, if only for propriety. Continue monitoring them."

Akiyo nods.

"Yes, my lord."

Silence reigns. When it becomes clear she isn't going to speak without a prompt, he gives a long-suffering sigh.

"... and Sayuri-san's message?"

Her wicked smirk widens. "Ah, she only wished you to know that Rin is desperate to greet you. The pup has been... excitable. Although I am told her lessons have been progressing well."

"Good."

"Nonetheless..." Akiyo trails off, noticing the painting. Her curiosity is obvious.

_'And once Akiyo takes an interest in something, there is no other outcome other than her satisfaction or the death of the thing in question. A good reason for appointing her as general in her father's wake, but a trait which is unnecessary at this moment in time.'_

He'd rather not have his newest acquisition shredded.

"This Sesshoumaru recovered it from a human miko while travelling. The technique could be of merit to the Western artisans and the prestige and income would augment both our reputation and the treasury."

With permission, Akiyo moves closer to examine it.

"Shrewd, Sesshoumaru-sama."

He remains stoic while she scrutinises it.

"Bah, it's nothing special. ... but what's this...?" She catches something in the wood. He follows the line of her claw, quickly translating the minute kanji.

He doesn't know what to make of what he reads.

"'Every thousand mile journey begins with one step - look after her.' What the-" Akiyo mutters and studies the kanji again, steel rimming her eyes. "Those words... the proverb, it is Touga-sama's, correct?" At his sharp nod, her hand falls to her sword. "And in script small enough for youkai eyes only, in possession of a miko... convenient, Sesshoumaru-sama. Too convenient." His general is unsettled; he, however, is only mildly ruffled. Outwardly.

"... Indeed. I will think on this further. Akiyo, see to the troops. There will be an inspection within the hour."

Her fingers whiten on the hilt of her sword and he can see the telltale glint in her eyes that means she is considering disobedience - but after a pointed look on his part she subsides and rattles off a sharp salute.

"Yes, my Lord."

The screen scrapes against the runners and brisk footsteps recede down the corridor. Sesshoumaru sits back, lost in thought.

_''Even a thousand mile journey begins with one step'. ... Tch. Father and his philosophy. What purpose do his words have here, in a world where he is nothing more than a memory?' _

He can almost feel Lord Touga breathing down the line of his neck, lounging in the corner and watching his every move with an indulgent smile. A quiet growl. It is... uncomfortable. Unwanted. He is Lord here, not a dead man. It has to be dealt with.

_'I must know the source of this. The half-breed's wench will tell me, or she will face the consequences.'_

Resolved, he stands. The trials of court life can wait no longer and there are soldiers waiting to be inspected. When he opens the screen, the attendant outside is already waiting.

"Take the item on my desk and give it to Shinobu-san. Tell him to see what his craftsmen can make of it. It must not be damaged."

"Yes, my lord."

The girl disappears in a flurry of black hair and clumsy limbs and he sighs inwardly, wondering if the painting will make it to his chief of staff in one piece. Hearing the distant bark of orders at the parade grounds, he banishes thoughts of those misplaced words and goes to terrorise the soldiers.

Nothing works better than inflicting fear to steady his resolve.

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Shu stands by the gallery window, hands in pockets and watching the world walk by. Two days since Kagome left for the past - if his assumption is right, his past self will have found his cryptic message by now, and will be spending his time stomping around the keep and growling at anyone who dares to get in his way.

_'You still held influence over me then, father. Your shadow was the one thing I couldn't escape. I discovered the truth to those ideal of yours in time through my dealings with Kagome, and I hope that was enough for you.'_

A car picks its way past the pedestrians crossing to the square - people with baskets and bags wanting to enjoy the sun at the weekend while they can. He doesn't blame them for it; he'd be sitting on the balcony of his flat now if he could help it, but something in him is too restless to stay still.

Stepping away from the glass, Shu walks over to the 'Feudal Myth' paintings; his eyes immediately search for any imperfections - artist reflex, Inuyasha calls it sometimes, and then reminds him that he was an 'anal asshole' long before he started being an artist.

_'And he is still an impudent pup, even after all these years.'_

His eyes fall on the small canvas of his father, running across the sky in youkai form.

_'As I was, once.'_

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_He had just started his training. Only with a wooden sword, stepping through the kata slowly and surely - or, in his case, not very surely at all. More often than not, his form was crooked, his sword too low, arms not straight enough - and his teacher was forced to reprimand him. Afterwards, his personal guard would bathe the bruises and wipe away the treacherous tears. Akiyo always understood, even after being assigned to him against her will._

_But otherwise, young Sesshoumaru was alone in his battle to gain strength and respect. _

_After a particularly brutal training session, he went to the gardens - curled at the base of a large tree and sullenly nursed his wounds. It was there that his father found him. The older inuyoukai had been travelling for almost two months and in his absence had become a focus for Sesshoumaru's resentment. His reappearance was the catalyst for his pent up frustrations to spill out, burning like fire in his blood._

_"Why are you making me do this?! I can't fight! Don't you see, father? All you're doing is making things _worse_!"_

_He struck, small claws bright, again and again and again, and each time he was blocked. Those gold eyes revealed nothing except understanding. But he didn't want understanding - he wanted anger! Rage! Something he could fight against, grapple with until he proved himself to be more than just a helpless pup._

_Lord Touga was immovable. Sesshoumaru exhausted himself and eventually fell at his father's feet, squeezing his eyes shut against his gnawing emotions. The Lord knelt carefully, laying a hand on his son's head._

_They stayed there until Sesshoumaru found his voice._

_"... why?"_

_"Because I need you to be strong, my son. I won't always be here to protect you."_

_"But father..."_

_He stopped as Touga sighed. The daiyoukai shifted his fur and sat back next to him, uncaring of the dewy grass staining his pristine clothes. Gold eyes so like his own crinkled into a smile. _

_"... when I was your age, my father trained me as I am training you. And I'll tell you something secret, if you promise not to breathe a word to anyone else."_

_Captured by his father's gaze, he nodded. Touga leaned closer, smile widening._

_"I barely lasted a week before I ran away."_

_"You ran away?!"_

_His father chuckled. _

_"Into the forest. They sent a patrol to catch me, and my father wouldn't let me leave the castle for weeks. He shut me in the library and bid me read all of the books on the largest shelf - you know which I mean?' _

_Stunned, he nodded again. The shelf ran almost the entire length of the library. He hadn't even read one book from there, and his father had read them _all_? The older youkai rumbled a full-bellied laugh._

_"You see? You aren't alone, Sesshoumaru. You just have to remember to be patient, and that one day you will be strong and have everything you could ever desire. Now, go to the healer and ask for something for your cuts. I promise that we will sit down and discuss this once you are recovered."_

_"Promise?"_

_"Promise."_

_He stood, bowed, and started walking towards the keep. He could feel his father watching him, that steady gaze burning between his shoulder blades. In the space between each step, Sesshoumaru wondered what expression he was wearing. Pride? Sorrow? Too caught up in his thoughts, he barely heard the words whispered on the breeze - but their impact was profound. They lodged in his brain, latched on and never let go; at least, until the arrival of a human princess and the start of his journey along the path of supreme conquest. His father's hope for him only resurfaced on that day in his study, and the words remained hollow and empty until their meaning was returned by a certain young miko._

_"Even a thousand mile journey begins with one step... I swear, my son, that I will not let you down. And you will be the most powerful Lord that the West will ever see."_

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Blunt human nails trail across the white paint, and Shu frowns at the likeness of Lord Touga.

"But my thousand mile journey isn't over yet, is it?"

His phone rings on the desk. A few strides, a check of the screen...

"Inuyasha."

"We've found him. Meet us at the house, bastard, and don't be late."

Shu smiles his less-than-human smile and shuts his phone. Seconds later the gallery door is swinging shut, and he is gone into the sunlight.

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Written for Set 1, Prompt 6, Nostalgic, at LJ comm iy_no_kakera. Un-beta'd. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated! Especially concrit. :)  
(On a side note, not sure if I'll be able to continue doing the prompts in order - it's too hard! xD I think it's going to be a failure on that front, somehow.)


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